Fin De Siecle
by ShinigamiForever
Summary: One of my usual rambling fics. But I think I can actually make it a series this time! Whoop for joy. Um, yeah, summary...In a world where everything is metal, a small organization of soldiers create their own world. Reviews please!
1. Fin De Siecle Side-fic 1: Prologue

[Title] 

Fin De Siecle

By: Shinigami Forever

Prologue: Beckoned In A Dream

***

A/N: A slightly different style of writing, this time. Extreme OOC on Duo's and Heero's part, a little on Wufei's part. Trieze is portrayed a bit differently too, the same for Zechs and Trowa. Screw ups of demonology and Christianity. Lots of weird technological junk. Stuff happens. That's all. The usual. Various pairings, all shounen-ai. Be warned! Enjoy! ^-^;;; (by the way, the title means "the end of an era")

***

He paused outside the door, waiting, like a silent shadow, pondering his entrance. A whisper of sound fluttered out of the door, fleeting, then disappearing. Soon, all was silent again, broken only by his sporadic breathing. He placed his hand over the scanner that served as a lock, watching lights scan past rapidly, reading the bar-codes etched into the pads of his fingertips, occupying the role of fingerprints.

"Voice recognition, please," the computer quipped, a vaguely feminine voice with a tint of tinny mechanism that barely disturbed him. He leaned over, placing his mouth over the speaker.

"In the spaces that lie between us," he spoke with perfect articulation, each vowel and consonant perfect, no fluctuation in tone. The code he knew well. The resident of the room was his best friend, his partner, perhaps his lover, but in this mechanical world, with icy metal walls and hearts that gleamed coldly, love was implied, never taken for anything. He was bonded. That was how it was put.

"Wave patterns and tone valid. Welcome, Duo Maxwell. You may enter." He watched the door slide open, stepping in with a momentary hesitation that was almost lost in the quiet whirl and swish of perfunctory tasks the machines performed with every metal heartbeat. He quickly scanned the room he entered, the door closing behind him. 

The pale stark light illuminated his body. The loose hooded gray tank-top blended seamlessly with white spandex-like tight jeans. His shoes were thin black boots, cut to his foot. He knew, as every occupant of this place, that the clothes he wore had tracers in them. The tank-top revealed a implanted microchip, much like the bar-codes on his fingertips, etched onto his right shoulder, with the number 02 above it. His hair cascaded down in a braid to the back of his knees, neatly plaited halfway and dangling in a loose ponytail the rest, golden with blond and amber highlights in the light brown shade. A watch hung to his wrist, his skin pale with gentle warm undertones, contrasting delightfully with the glittering resolute amethystine eyes. A black wire-thin head set with an ear-piece plugged into his right ear and a curved mouth-piece adorned his head. He wore it with an air of practiced indifference and learned acceptance. 

The resident of this room was dressed similarly, with the exception of the colors. This one wore a tank-top the shade of gentle green, his pants a light blue. His hair was a dark brown, streaked with black and light coffee. The eyes were ocean blue, varying in depth and color, gleaming with a crystal hardness. He wore a similar headset, donned a similar microchip, the number 01 instead. He held a sense of determination, an aura of danger, perhaps a whiff of power. He gave one a sense of being a living loaded weapon, which, to a certain extent, was exactly who and what he was.

The dark haired boy was seated on the bed, wrapped in a countenance of quiet meditation. The other boy walked up to him, standing with apathetic eyes in front of the seated one. For a moment, both were silent, lost.

"Duo." The seated one spoke, lifting marine blue eyes to meet briefly with plum purple. He slid over, allowing space for Duo to sit down. 

"Heero." They were both seated now, a gap of about 2 inches between them. Heero let his eyes wander over Duo briefly before returning to gazing off, eyes distracted and unfocused. Duo leaned closer, gaze fixed on the perfection of the other boy's face, all angles, smooth and sharp, molded to the absolute beauty of both male and female. Long eyelashes shaped black crescents when he blinked, a nose sculpted like an ancient Greek or Roman statue, and a mouth, full and sensuous, settled in a gentle frown. Perfection. Total perfection.

Duo, of course, did not see his own features. He knew that when he looked in the mirror, he would see eyes that reflected color like wine that had twirled itself in a multi-faceted glass. His own face was round, slim yet curved, bangs offsetting with jagged raw edges of brown hair, framing and shading his eyes. His face was set in an expression of untold calmness, a deathly coolness and composure. His lips were set in a dimly smug line, the edges pulling downwards, yet holding a hint of smiles and smirks. He himself was beautiful. But he held none of the exotic exquisiteness of Heero, nor that of the other boy, Wufei. He had none of the arrogant, refined, yet subtle beauty of their commanders, Zechs or Trieze. But he was beautiful. They all were. They were made that way.

They continued sitting in silence.

Heero turned his head around, a strangely vacant smile on his lips. "Hello." Duo smiled back, faintly amused by Heero's comment. He watched the blue-eyed boy lift a shaking hand to the other's face, brushing the bangs away with trembling fingers, and then letting them fall, softly stroking the pale skin. Duo leaned into Heero's touch, letting smooth skin glide down smooth skin. 

"I dreamed last night," Heero whispered, his breath floating towards Duo's face. It smelled of tea and peppermint, perhaps a faint twinge of metal. Or was it blood?

"I dreamed," he continued, "that I was surrounded by lights. Beautiful flowing lights, a color that lay off of the color scale, perhaps blue, perhaps white, and perhaps yellow. They sang a melodious song, full of held notes and trills. It slithered down scales with angelic wet velvetiness. But they made no sound. Can you see it? A sea full of resonating lights that trailed across my mind." Duo nodded, surveying the face of the speaker, watching the slight changes of expression and listening to the almost nonexistent catches of the voice.

Heero had closed his eyes, searching for the surreal splendor of the dream world. Duo continued to watch him, fascinated by the magnificence of a being which seemed perfect to him. He allowed his hand to brush like gossamer wings across Heero's hand, the cool touch sending electric sparks across Heero's senses, flinching briefly.

"And when you woke up?" Duo asked, voice low and husky, tuned to the flawless sensuous tone.

"I woke up. I looked around, the cold metal walls gleaming in the early light. And I saw lights in my head. Lights. Arresting, melodic, angelic lights." Heero now took his fingers and brushed it down Duo's spine, drawing him close.

"They whispered your name…"

Duo closed his eyes, leaning back into Heero's touch. "My name?" He felt himself spiraling out of reality, allowing himself to be sucked into Heero's world.

"They sang 'Duo, Duo, Duo…' Over and over again in my head." Heero whispered, close against Duo's ear now, breath sending shivers across the brown-haired boy's body. "They said your name on my lips…

"Duo…"

***

A/N: Yeah, yeah, and really short. I promise I will actually get this series continued, not drop it off. As you can tell, this is mostly 1+2, but remember, nothing is as it seems.

Thanks so much for actually reading, if you still are.

Feedback please!


	2. Fin De Siecle 1.1: Recondita Armonia

Fin De Siecle

By: ShinigamiForever

Part 1.1: Recondita Armonia (Strange Harmony)

***

A/N: Since I promised I would continue this series and be able to claim that I at least have been able to keep up a series, I am inserting this part as an experimental piece. 1+2/2+1 so far. OOC. Nothing much. BTW, the song "Recondita Armonia" is one of Pucchini's.

***

Silence.

A dreaded, stifling, agonizing silence.

The kind of silence that turns a cold room searing hot and turns even the blandest comment into a momentary respite.

Silence.

Zechs shifted slightly, twitching one of his fingers. He kept his eyes focused on the blank patch of wall in his room, preparing for the least bit of sound. A pale strand of platinum blond hair tickled his face teasingly, but he pointedly ignored it.

A soft murmur sounded in his ears. 'Marquise…'

He pressed two fingers against the jewel communicator in his ear. 'Chang.'

The "JewelCom," as it was so often called, allowed the 2 communicators to mouth their words. The sensors then pick up the motions and translate them into words. The ones that Zechs and Wufei had were even more complicated, allowing them to switch off into different channels. Also, the voices that sounded the words were the replica of their own voices. They were small, made of a clear and transparent material that sparkled in the light, making its appearance resemble that of a small jewel. 

'It's time.'

'I know.'

'Are you ready?'

'Yes.'

In one fluid motion, the blond stood up and instinctively brushed away the wrinkles on his bed sheets. He took a deep breath before looking around at the room.

The walls were a stark white, lights arranged in circles across the ceiling. A bed resembling a cot was pushed against the right wall. Next to the bed was a desk with a computer cubicle, equipped with a state-of-the-art WindRider v. 5.1, a printer, and a scanner. A screen communicator was positioned a little distance away from the computer, black against white wall. A built in closet, nearly invisible except for the electric lock, occupied the left wall.

Zechs slipped out the door, platinum blond hair that was pulled back in a ponytail whirling in white curves behind him. He waited, back to the door, for the swish and click that locked and shut his door before continuing on.

The hallways winded in straight sharp corners, stark white and blatantly hard. He slid through them briskly, walking with efficient steps and feeling the controlled air whip in his face, flooding his lungs with the filtered oxygen of the place. Filtered and cleaned, dull and flat, lacking in any flavor, completely and totally controlled. It was like everything else in this place. Cold, metallic, lacking sparkle or natural life. Zechs smiled dismally. He had never lived anywhere else, other than here. He was born in this harsh world of metal, continued living in this harsh world of metal, and would probably die here too.

Death…

The word echoed in his mind and he whispered it out to the open, whistling air in front of him. "Death…"

A mixture of half syllables that rolled across one's tongue. A muted hard sound, a vowel like noise that came from the back of your throat, then the slip of your tongue to form the last "t-h" roll. Soft. Deceptively so.

He stopped when he arrived at a particular door. It had, as all doors had, an electrical lock to read the scans on their fingertips and also a voice tester for a possible password check. He placed his fingers on the scanner.

"Voice recognition, please," the mechanical voice said, awakened by the scanning lights, shaken from its electrical slumber where the voice lay hid.

He leaned over to place his mouth closer to the voice detector. "I have written of me on my stone," he quoted, the password falling from his mouth like cascades of words and syllables, always syllables. The perfect articulation never changed, the rolling timbre of command, or discipline.

__

Something sinister in the tone/Told me my secret must be- Marquise, shut up.

Annoyed, he straightened himself just in time to step into the room before the swishing door closed. The click that followed assured him the door was locked afterwards.

"Marquise."

He flinched unconsciously. It always bothered him, the changes between the acoustic voice and the generated voice. It was not that they were different in any way. It was just the gritting realness of Wufei's voice when he was in flesh and blood in front of Zechs, and the slither of Wufei's voice when it was in Zechs' ear, purring almost. They were the same voice. Just changed. Perhaps it was a mental affect. 

"Chang," he greeted the Chinese warrior. Like all others in this place, Wufei also wore the hooded sweatshirt tank top, his being a dark red, Zechs' being a light ice blue, a bit like the color of Marquise's eyes. Wufei's number was 05, the microchip embedded on the smooth muscle of Wufei's right arm. Zechs did not need to look down on his own shoulder to know that his microchip was also in the same position, bearing the number 06. 

Wufei had androgynously beautiful features, much like Heero and Duo. His eyes were sharp and an intense onyx color, slanting slightly in the Asian fashion. His face was a rich bronze, lighter than caramel, but deeper in warmth and color. Muscles rippled under skin, tight and drawn to a forever ready position. He was not very tall, standing about a head below Zechs, but he had the look of agility and speed, as well as admirable strength. He held himself stiff, aloft, but with a certain grace.

"We must suit up," Wufei said, his voice twisting the old familiar phrase sardonically. He paused for a moment, looking slightly worriedly at Zechs before shrugging faintly and turning to face the second door leading into the so-called dressing room.

"Yes," Zechs murmured, following Wufei. As he waited for Wufei to open the door and release the lock, he impulsively placed his hand gently on Wufei's shoulder, then regretted it as the Chinese boy straightened up suddenly. He felt the shoulder tense up nervously before Wufei forced himself to relax.

"Let's go," Chang said, rather gruffly and with a hint of a growl at the edges. Zechs nodded, quickly retracting his hand and slipping through the door.

__

Heero told me you are not a man who likes to be touched-

What does it matter, Marquise?

He said you are like a-

Shut up, Marquise.

They entered the dressing room. It was simply little blocked off rooms with lockers. The door to each dressing room was marked with a number, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, and 13. Dressing room 03 and 04 were unused; the original boy, an older teenager of about 17, had died, while dressing room 04 had never been used. Rumor was that the founder of this place had once used it, but ended up dying after his second battle. It was considered bad luck to go in the room for any reason. Superstition, surely, but it was frightening. 

Zechs unlocked his door and entered the room, closing the door behind him. The room was mostly empty, filled with the same stark white light that was characteristic of all the rooms. A revolving locker occupied the left wall along with a small couch like sitting place. A small computer screen and extended keyboard took up the right wall.

Zechs walked over to the rotating closet, pulling up his shirt along the way. The closet opened after he palmed the lock. There were some hooks where he slung his hooded tank-top. He peeled off his pants and took off his shoes, placing them in the closet with deftness. The closet turned, revealing the battle suit.

It was an almost skin tight uniform. It connected the pants and the top. Zechs, being 06, had that number tagged on his right arm. The uniform came up to his neck on the top and also had glove-like coverings for his hands. A stripe of light blue, the color of his regular shirt, ran down the left arm. The rest was black. The blond knew that the battle suit was embedded and crisscrossed with sensors under the top layer of covering. It was part of their mock battle, known throughout as "The Games." 

He walked over to the computer, ears catching the sound of the rotating closet shut itself after he took out the uniform. With some minor difficulty, he slipped it on and activated the computer.

"Code verification for battle 023, please," the computer said, displaying a screen for name and code.

Name: Z-E-C-H-S-0-6.

Password: ******

"Verification complete. Please choose your weapons, Zechs06." Zechs rapidly ran through the inventory of choices. He spotted what he wanted and clicked on the icons.

"Choice of weapons for Zechs06: Standard energy shield, advanced target finder, long range laser gun, short range laser saber. Verify choice of weapons?"

Methodically, he typed in yes.

"Zechs06 has completed pre-battle sign up. Please wait until battle commences." The computer shut off automatically. Zechs was slightly annoyed. He hated waiting until the start of the battle to learn what Wufei and the other team had chosen as weapons.

For a minute, he stood, waiting, watching the dust motes fly in the air. He felt strangely naked, stripped in the bare light, white against white.

Then-

"Zechs. It's time to go."


End file.
